No Promises Tonight
by I hart Booth
Summary: Booth and Brennan in the Old West, mostly because Booth would be sexy as a Cowboy and I had Bonanza on the brain. AU, but total BB. For all you ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’ types.
1. Stranger

**_So this is only my second AU fic, it's not meant to be taken serioulsy, just a bit of fun for anyon who wants it. Enjoy. _**

A tall, handsome, broad-shouldered man walked through the swinging doors of the Jefferson saloon at nearly closing time. His dusty attire and haggard expression, indicative of days on the trail, caught the curious glances and outright stares from the handful of people inside the place.

Near the bar, a pretty woman with softly curled dark hair and an extravagant gown lazily played the piano.

Removing his hat, he took a seat at the empty bar and waited for the bartender.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

Looking over to from where the question had come, he saw the pretty woman had left the piano, her purple and black lace gown falling lazily off her shoulder, and was coming to sit beside him.

"No, just passing through."

She nodded and smiled knowingly. "You with the law or running from it?"

The stranger narrowed his eyes in slight amusement and, with a lopsided half grin, he pulled back his vest to reveal a shiny brass badge.

"Wow, Federal Marshall. You any good?" She asked, one eyebrow raised, that same I-know-your-secret smile on her face.

The stranger didn't answer, merely continued to study her with his kind brown eyes in a way that made her feel like he could read her thoughts.

Wishing to escape his intense gaze, she stuck out her hand. "I'm Angela by the way."

The man shook it. "Name's Seeley Booth, most folks call me Booth, suits me just fine."

"Well, Booth, what brings you to this little one-horse town?"

Booth pulled a wrinkled paper from his vest pocket. "You seen this man before?"

Angela took a second to study the drawing and then nodded. "Yeah, he came through here about, mmm three days ago. He do something wrong?"

Booth nodded and looked at the drawing himself. "Killed two people, man and woman, then he stole their horse and all their money. Left their eight-year-old daughter orphaned."

Angela gasped. "How horrible."

"Yeah…three days you say?" The woman nodded and he smiled again. "Then, yeah, I'm pretty good. The last town I stopped in said he passed through six days before."

"Sounds like you're making good time." Both Angela and Booth turned to find a tall, striking looking woman approaching from behind the bar. In her brown top buttoned all the way up to her neck and sleeves covering all the way down to her wrists, she was the picture of modesty. A few reddish hairs fell free from her messy bun as she approached.

"I am." Booth answered, his brown eyes locked with her icy blues.

A moment of silence passed as the two assessed one another and Angela sat amused on the sidelines. After a moment, she couldn't resist and teased, "Is it just me or did it just get hotter in here?"

The woman behind the bar shot her a look before turning her eyes back on Booth. "Can I get you something?"

"A beer would be fine Mrs…"

"A beer it is." The woman turned to retrieve a glass from the shelf behind her and ignored the man's attempt to get her name.

Booth raised his eyebrows when the drink was set in front of him and the woman raised hers in return.

"What?"

"It's cold." He responded, slightly astonished.

"Yes, well, would you prefer it warm?"

"No, but it has been a while since I've had the cold stuff, how do you manage that way out here?"

A look of slight amusement crossed the woman's face for a moment before it was gone and she turned to tend to the other end of the bar, left dirty by previous patrons.

Angela smiled and patted Booth's arm. "Sorry Marshall, you won't be getting any answers out of Bren until she's good and ready to give them."

And with that, she left him to return to her piano.

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**_This was pretty short, but I have more, interested?_**


	2. Those Eyes

**_Thanks for all the interest in this, and all the rocking reviews. For the record, I've never been a huge fan of AU fics either, but I'm giving this a shot so I'm glad lots of you are too. _**

"Yeah, three days ago like Angie said." The woman slid the drawing back across the bar and straightened. "What about his friends, have you talked to them yet?"

Booth's eyes snapped up from the drawing. "Friends? He was riding alone last time I had his trail."

The auburn haired woman shrugged one shoulder and continued wiping away at the counter. "Well, when he was here he always drank with two other men. One…was a whiskey drinker with an ivory handled Colt .38 the other…well, he didn't talk much. Big fella with red hair."

Booth raised his eyebrows and hid a small grin with a sip of beer. "Colt .38 huh?"

The woman frowned. "Yes." Noting the amusement in his eyes, her frown deepened. "What's so funny? A woman can't know the make and model of a gun by looking at it?" She asked indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Booth was about to respond when the sudden sound of crashing chairs and guttural voices shouting caught their attention. A fight had broke out between a couple men playing poker and they were now rolling about on the floor where a table used to be. All watched for a moment, waiting for the two to work it out themselves. It wasn't until one of the men wiggled free and pulled a small gun from his boot that Booth jumped off his stool. He barely had his own gun drawn when two shots rang out and the whole bar fell silent.

Thinking the man had shot his opponent, Booth ran over to lend aid, only to find the other man never fired. The sound of a shotgun being cocked made all heads swivel in the same direction. Booth's eyes widened at the sight of his auburn haired bartender, lips pursed in a line, arms wrapped around a 14 gauge shotgun.

"Take it outside boys, and you owe me a new table."

The half drunk men were still sober enough to know you don't argue with the business end of a shotgun, so they gathered what was left of their pride and their money and headed outside.

Booth returned to his barstool, mouth still hanging open in shock.

"You have a…"

"14 guage muzzle-loading shotgun? Yes." She said calmly, replacing the huge gun under the bar, "And for the record. It's my bar, I can take care of it myself." And on that note, she left to go clean up the mess left by the poker players, and Booth returned to his drink. Though his first inclination was to go and help her, something told him he'd get a tongue whipping just for thinking of it.

He'd been studying his cold beer in deep thought for quite a few minutes when the swinging doors creaked and he turned to watch curiously as a well dressed man with curly hair and a beard walked straight over to Angela at the piano. She sent him a new smile, a wide, happy smile she hadn't worn before and the man smiled in return.

"She looks happy." Booth commented quietly, sensing the return of his mysterious bartenderess more than seeing it. He'd found there was a pleasant smell that accompanied her presence and he inhaled deeply, attempting to identify it.

The woman absently looked up from where she'd been dusting whisky bottles and followed the man's gaze over to Angela and her husband.

"She is. That's her husband, Jack Hodgins."

Booth looked thoughtful for a moment and then asked, almost disbelievingly, "As in this town's namesake, Hodgins?"

The small smile on her lips told him they were one-in-the-same and his eyebrows raised again in surprise, then turned slowly to a frown. "But, then, what's she doing around here? Playing the piano and such?"

The woman's face turned serious. "There's no '_and such'_, she just plays the piano. Hodgins is good for her that way." She told him sharply, "And…well, she does it because she likes it I suppose." She finished, a bit less harsh than before.

Booth nodded silently, watching as Jack helped Angela gather her hat and handbag, walking her to the door with a hand at her back.

"See you tomorrow Brennan." Angela called over her shoulder, sending her friend a smile and a wink before disappearing out the door.

"And you? What do you like to do?" Booth asked a few moments later as he finished his drink.

Pausing in sweeping the floor, she looked up, as if wanting to see if he sincerely wanted the answer to that question.

"I read." She said simply, and then immediately returned to her floor.

Booth watched her for a moment, appreciating the elegant movements even the yards of fabric in her conservative dress couldn't hide, and then stood. Placing two coins on the bar, he took his hat, fiddling with the brim as he approached her.

"Will I see you again?" It struck him as funny that he asked this question of her, when in reality their interaction that night had consisted of a few halting questions on his part and a few matter-of-fact replys on hers, but the question was out there just the same.

The woman stopped sweeping and looked up. He was standing close now, almost too close. So close in fact, that she saw for the first time that night, how handsome he truly was. It wasn't the physical aspect, although he certainly had that. He wore a body that was toned and defined from long days of hard labor, his skin was dark and tanned from many days spent on a horse's back. His face seemed touched by an angel, if she believed in such things, which in her heart of hearts she did not, not that she would ever say so out loud.

Even while he was all those handsome things, she found it was his eyes that captivated her most, just as they had all night long. She was so used to seeing coldness in the eyes of wanderers. Shallow desires lied within them and calloused words fell off their lips, she was so used to knowing exactly what they wanted nd she'd grown used to the threat they posed.

But in this stranger's eyes there was a friendliness, an almost playful sparkle that made her want to trust him, and it scared her more than she realized.

So, wishing to protect herself the only way she knew how, she forced her voice to remain flat, her tone neutral as she responded.

"Only if you pass this way again. And you won't." She turned and walked to a doorway at the end of the bar and disappeared, taking her sweet, almost flowery scent with her. Booth watched her go and hung his head slightly before turning toward the door.

"Oh, I'll be back." He called to the empty bar, "You still have to tell me your name."

Slipping his dusty hat onto his head, he pushed through the doors and moved out onto the porch, the only light came from the few dim lamps inside the bar and a full moon peaking out from behind a cloud.

It was a combination of being in a strange town, the darkness of night, and the lingering smell of flowers that caused him to overlook the sound of footsteps approaching. And by the time he heard them, it was too late.

**_Oh the lovley cliffees..._**


	3. No Promises

**Okay, first, AU means Alternative Universe, basically the characters outside the relm and setting of the show. Anything set in another time period (High School, College or...Cowboys) would be considered AU, plus a few other things I think probably. Also, thanks to all you people who don't ususally do the AU thing, I'm so glad you're giving this a chance. Now, if you would be so kind, tell me what you think of this chap, I did my absolute best to keep it In Charchter, so you can give me your opinion on whether or not you think I did. **

* * *

Booth thought for a moment that he actually saw stars behind his own eyelids. The blow knocked him to the ground and he stumbled off the wooden porch attempting to catch his balance. Still not fully recovered from the dizziness nor adjusted to the darkness, he began swinging blindly at the shadows and footsteps in an attempt to defend himself. 

A few satisfying grunts and groans rewarded a well placed fist or boot, but he was now fighting from the flat of his back, and they were on their feet. The blows rained down on him from several different vantages, too many to be just one man, and they quickly got the better of him. Just when he was about to give in to his sudden exhaustion, he heard the loud click of a shotgun being cocked and suddenly the blows stopped.

Peaking open one eye, another shadow approached, but this time accompanied by the sweet flowery smell from earlier and he relaxed his fists.

"C'mon." A small hand wrapped around his upper arm and he felt himself being pulled upward. With a little effort, he returned to his feet and then squeezed his eyes shut again, pain pounding against his head at the sudden altitude change.

"Hmm." The voice said. With his eyes closed Booth could feel the closeness of another warm body and he knew it was his lady bartender from before. Her soft hands were turning his face toward the moonlight, and she kept making 'hmm'ing noises and he was having trouble deciding if they were good or bad. Then apparently she'd completed her moonlight inspection because he felt himself being led back inside the bar.

She took him straight to a door at the back of the bar where he'd seen her disappear into only once during his brief stay. She led him inside, pushed him down on a small bed and shut and locked the door behind them.

"Take off your shirt." She instructed, turning to light a dim yellow oil lamp. Booth didn't move, merely gave her a strange look while he pressed a hand to his throbbing temple.

Seeing his reluctance, she frowned and put her hands on her hips. "Is there a problem?"

Booth shrugged. "No offence ma'am, but…you're a bartender."

The woman rolled her blue eyes and went to a small trunk near the foot of the bed, pulling out a black bag. "I'm also the town doctor."

Booth raised his eyebrows but did finally begin unbuttoning his shirt. "What's that?" He asked, nodding toward a strange trumpet-like device she pulled from her bag.

"It's for hearing your heartbeat." She said simply, leaning in close to press her ear and the device to his chest. Satisfied with the strong heartbeat she heard there, she moved lower.

"What are you doing now?" Booth asked in a tight voice, her close proximity was…well, close and it was doing things to him. He'd been on the move for nearly two months now with nothing but his horse for company, she smelled good and really, there's only so much a man can take.

The woman, however, seemingly unaware of his discomfort, only shushed him as she listened to other spots on his torso. "I'm listening to determine if you have any internal injuries. Rushing blood and such." She said quietly, concentrating on listening to her chest trumpet.

Booth nodded and tried to distract himself by studying the small room they were in. It was obviously where she lived, though barely ten feet wide by twelve feet long. He could see few personal tokens, a single photograph of a man and woman sat near the head of the bed and an old dresser sat across from him with female things atop it. But what astonished him most were the books. Everywhere around him he could see hundreds of books. On shelves near the window, on the dresser, even under the bed. Booth couldn't remember ever seeing so many books in one place. Some of them with titles he didn't even think he could pronounce.

Suddenly she pulled away from him and put her little ear trumpet back in the bag, producing bandages from it instead.

"Your head is bleeding." She said while gently, but firmly wrapping his head in the white cloth bandages.

Booth winced slightly but remained as still as possible so she could complete her work. He grew bored though, and started fidgeting tapping his fingers and bobbing his head slightly. That is until he caught sight of their reflection in the mirror over her dresser, and the glare she was sending him through it.

"Sorry." He said, sheepishly. To his surprise, she smiled softly and shook her head.

"It's alright." She tied a knot and climbed off the bed. "The men who did this, I think they were the friends of the man your after." She crossed her arms and frowned thoughtfully.

Booth nodded. "I kind of figured that." He turned to reach for his shirt, and could feel her eyes on him. She blushed when she realized she'd been caught staring and turned away to straighten a pile of books on a chair a few feet away.

Booth smiled to himself and looked at the floor. "So, now that you've seen me with my shirt off, I suppose it's only right that you tell me your name." To his delight a soft laugh escaped her and she turned around smiling.

"That logic is flawed."

"C'mon, please?" He smiled at her then, a charming smile that made her go weak in the knees and she looked away for fear she might collapse.

"Fine. It's Temperance. Temperance Brennan."

Booth's face brightened. "Okay then, Doctor Temperance Brennan, you think you could help me with my shirt?" He pointed to a bruise already turning purple over his lower ribs. Temperance hesitated before nodding and coming to sit on the bed. She reached across him to pull the fabric up his arms and her hands brushed against his tanned, surprisingly soft skin.

Booth watched her blush, slightly amused by her discomfort, and was about to say something when she accidentally bumped a bruise forming on his arm and he hissed in pain.

"If it's too painful I suppose you could just leave it off." She said apologetically.

Booth gave her a surprised grin and she bit her lip.

"That was probably presumptuous of me, are you offended?" She asked, noticing for the first time that she was mere inches from his face.

Booth's warm brown gaze fell momentarily to her lips and then traveled back up to her eyes. "No, I'm not."

Their breath grew hot and mingled between them and still they didn't move apart. Booth remained slightly bent backward, half tangled in a ripped shirt, Brennan bent slightly over him, unable to bring herself to move out of his personal space.

Their eyes darted and their breath shortened, and still neither moved. It was the howling of a far off wolf that finally startled them back to life, and Temperance leaned forward, closing the space between them in one quick movement. Booth was momentarily startled, but quickly recovered and pushed back, hotly returning the kiss.

After a moment, she pulled away, gasping.

"Now that was presumptuous." He smiled, "but I'm still not offended."

Temperance smiled back and reached up to her head. Pulling a pin from her hair, the auburn waves came crashing down around her shoulders. "Good, because I really don't want to stop."

With that, she was on him again, this time he lay down beneath her, relishing in the flowery smell as it surrounded him and he grew intoxicated with the essence of her.

---

Hours later they lay beside each other on the floor of the small room, surrounded by towers of books on either side as the hot July moon shone down on them and their thin blanket. She was curled up in his arms as he stroked her hair, neither brave enough to speak aloud, they silently contemplated what tomorrow would bring.

Temperance was no child, she'd been with men before, it wasn't something she was proud of, but it was what it was. Only, usually she was quick to be rid of the strange man in her bed, wanting nothing more than to be alone after one such carnal and satisfying encounter. But, tonight had been different. He'd been attentive to her, satisfied her many times over before he even once thought of himself. He'd been gentle, treating her as if she were something valuable and delicate. But what troubled her most, was that he'd made her feel loved. Love, she knew, was fleeting if not imaginary altogether. But that's what he'd made her feel and she'd never known a man to show her that so intensely before. So when it came to the moment when she would usually push him out the door and out of her life, she found herself clinging to him, silently asking him to stay. She dreaded the moment when the sun began to rise and he would have to go, when all of this would become real again.

Booth couldn't ever remember feeling so content before in his life. He felt as though, if the world were to stop spinning in that instant, and time were to stand still, he could be happy right there in that moment, in that room with a woman he barely knew curled up beside him. He found himself wanting to linger when he knew he should go, and wanting to touch her when he knew he should pull away. There was something very strong and powerful about this woman that was at the same time vulnerable and innocent, he found it captivating. She made him feel humbled and yet still, somehow godlike. The way she reacted to him, the way she gave as much as she took. But, what startled him most, was the strong desire to claim her, to tell the world she was his. To protect her from harm and to love her. He barely knew this woman, and somehow he knew he couldn't live without her. It pained him to know he was going to have to.

He felt her lips on his cheek and he turned, kissing her briefly.

"I have to leave in the morning." He whispered, not able to continue unless he was sure she knew what was to come. His words startled her, so much of their night had been spent in heated silence.

She nodded sadness in her eyes as she whispered, "I know." She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled away.

"I'll be back." He assured her. She frowned slightly and he touched her cheek. "I'll come back for you."

Her frown deepened as a learned fear seeped into her stomach. "Please don't say that. No one ever comes back to this place…to me. Don't make promises you can't keep."

Booth matched her frown with a look of determination. "It's not a promise, it's a garauntee. I _will_ come back for you Temperance."

* * *

**_So what did you think? Tryng to hotwire your D'Lorean to take you back to 1885 yet??_**


	4. The Return

**Sorry about the delay in posting this, I've had some personal stuff happening and it really shows no sign of stopping any time soon. Lucky for you, writing is my coping mechanism, as long as the muse hangs around, mind you. And that's always a toss up.**

_It was raining. How appropriate. She stood just under the protection of the overhang outside her bar and watched as he mounted his horse, already soaked to the skin with the cool summer downpour. Inevitably his eyes met hers and she could read all the promises he hadn't made and all the honesty he'd given her the night before written plainly in the brown depths of them. _

_The rain had driven everyone inside and it felt as if they had the whole world to themselves in that moment. Her fingers itched to hold him, her arms felt empty without him inside them so she crossed them over her chest and stuck her chin out in that defiant way she did. She didn't want to need anyone, she knew that. But in the past 24hours she'd learned that she unequivocally, completely needed him, more than water or air. And the naked fear she felt because of that made her shiver as if standing in the middle of a winter snow. _

_He saw her shiver and bit back the impulse to tell her to go inside where it was warmer. If he'd learned anything the night before, it was that Temperance Brennan did exactly what she wanted, when she wanted. He admired and respectfully feared her for it. Everything about her drew him in and pulled at him, as if with physical ropes and chains. _

_He'd never been the kind to stay in one place for very long, but he'd also never felt so completely entwined with another person before either. Even as he mounted his horse and looked at her through the rain, he knew deep in his heart that he'd be back for her. That she would wait for him even though she swore she knew he'd never return. Since speaking over the pounding water was nearly impossible, he wished to communicate all his thoughts and hopes without words, using the connection they'd had from the very first moment their eyes met, and he knew she understood. The shyest of smiles danced slowly across their lips. _

_In an instant the connection was broken and with a slight nod he turned and galloped out of town, mud and water splashing beneath the horses' hooves and the fog and rain soon masked his lone silhouette. He was gone. She swallowed hard and tore her eyes off the dark horizon, hugging her arms closer and knowing he would never come back this way again. She knew that, past experience had taught her that much. And still…she couldn't seem to quash the small desire that burned in her heart, wishing and hoping that he would one day be back for her._

"Sweetie please, it's hotter than the hinges of hell in here." Angela sighed, draped across the bar in a very unladylike stance, but not really worrying about that fact as she sipped her cool beer and cooled herself with an oriental fan Jack bought her in San Francisco.

Brennan looked at the floor to mask a roll or her eyes and lazily turned the page in her book. "You can leave anytime you want to Ange, I told you that." She flicked light blue eyes at her friend and casually scanned the bar, empty save two old timers playing poker with pennies in the corner.

"Yes, and I told you I'm not going anywhere without you. You'll read yourself to death in this heat."

"That's impossible Angela."

"How do you know?" She tugged irritably at her puffy red skirt and made a disgusted face at her inability to get comfortable in the insanely humid air inside the bar. Seeing her friend was about to retort, she jumped in quickly, not wanting another of her long drawn out medical lectures. "What ever happened to that cowboy?"

Brennan returned to her book, replying distractedly, "Cowboy? I'm going to need something a little more specific than that. In case you haven't noticed, the majority of the people walking in and out of here are cowboys."

Angela was the one to hide a roll of her eyes. "You know the one I'm talking about Brenn. The Marshall?"

Her gaze flicked up sharply and darkness passed over her blue eyes for an instant, before being quickly masked and pushed aside. "That was nearly six months ago Angela. He's not coming back, you know that."

Angela saw the change but didn't comment, having seen it many times before and knowing better than to call attention to it. "I know no such thing." She leaned far over the bar and laid a delicate hand on her friends' pale wrist. "You've really got to learn to have a little faith in people Brennan. They don't all let you down."

After a moment of hesitation Brennan set down her book and pulled away quickly, turning to rearrange some glasses on the back counter. "All evidence to the contrary."

The dark haired pianist sighed in defeat and turned away to look outside and, hopefully, pass the day a bit quicker, when her eyes landed on the swinging doors, and a vaguely familiar silhouette forming behind them.

"Oh, you think so do you?"

Brennan's shoulders slumped. "Angela, it's too hot to argue, can't you just accept the fact that people who make promises can't be…" She turned around to emphasize her point and halted mid sentence as a tall, broad, tired looking cowboy moved slowly through the front door, "trusted."

His hair was a little bit longer. He'd forgone the vest and badge, instead opting for a light cotton shirt, the top three buttons undone. He was stubbly and sweaty, his hat was different too, but there was no mistaking his eyes. They met, as before, from across the room and there was nothing anymore. No bar, no heat, no beer and no Angela. Nothing outside blue and brown gazes, locked in a battle of fear, hope, trust and relief.

"You came back."

"I told you I would."

They spoke quietly, inching toward each other with calculated steps. He moved three steps further inside, she moved three steps further from behind the bar. Give and take, as it should be, she'd always thought.

"I didn't believe you."

"I know."

That sweet, almost flowery scent hit him again and he found himself inhaling deeply without really meaning to, he'd almost forgotten how wonderful she was. She balled her fists to contain her fingers as they began to tingle with the familiar urge to hold him once more.

"Why?" She whispered once they were mere breaths apart. A small, lopsided smile took hold of his lips.

"Guess I just had to prove you wrong."

She smiled too then and clenched her fists tighter to keep herself from reaching out to him.

His eyes fell to her lips and back again ,silently asking permission. She swallowed hard and silently granted it, bottling up the fear that had held her captive for so long.

He pulled her close and despite the heat she only wished to be held closer. She opened her hands and took hold of his shirt, tugging and pulling at him. As if to melt him into her would be the only way to know for sure that he was actually there.

Booth pressed his nose into her neck and hair, the flowery scent he'd been so missing invaded and overwhelmed his senses. As she pulled at him, he tugged right back, the heat of the day all but forgotten as they pressed their bodies closer. Now that he was back in her arms, he found himself wondering how he'd ever managed to survive these last few months without her.

Reluctantly ,they pulled apart, wearing matching, goofily happy grins.

"You got your guy?"

"I did." He read a question in her eyes and wound his fingers with hers in reassurance. "So now…I'm back."

"To stay?" She asked before she could stop herself, feeling more vulnerable than she'd intended.

Booth nodded, responding quietly, "For as long as you're willing to put up with me."

A new smile, this one holding back tears, crossed her face and she went back into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and turning toward his ear.

"Than make yourself comfortable Cowboy, you're gonna be here a while." She whispered. His tightened grip around her waist assured her that was what he wanted and she pressed her face into his shoulder once more as a few tears escaped her eyes.

"Hey Marshall." A voice called out from across the bar and the two pulled apart just enough to see Angela making herself at home behind the counter, a sly grin on her face. "How about a cold beer?"

Booth smiled and then looked at Brennan. "You've still got to tell me how you manage that."

"Yeah well, we'll see about that."

They settled on a pair of stools, hands gently, deliberately brushing against each other as they settled into place, and Angela put two mugs of beer in front of them.

"So, Mr. Marshall, what's next? More criminals to go after?" She said, leaning over, elbows on the bar as a few hastily pinned black curls fell into her face.

"Nope, nothing so far. I put Thompson away and came right back here." He squeezed her hand below the bar, and Brennan blushed, gulping down her beer as fast as possible.

"Well, what a coincidence." Angela said, feigned shock and surprise, "Would you believe that we have an opening for Sheriff right here in Hodgins City…and I happen to know a very influential man."

"Really now?" He said, sipping his beer, "Sounds like you've got it all worked out."

"I try. I certainly do try." She looked up to grin that sly grin she did so love, but in that moment, she could have been wearing a carved out pumpkin on her head and yodeling on top of the bar, the two people in front of her certainly wouldn't have noticed.

Rolling her eyes, Angela couldn't hide the satisfied smirk that graced her lips as she collected her beer and went to join the quiet poker game happening over in the corner. Booth and Brennan didn't see her go, but then, Angela didn't see them either when they disappeared inside Brennan's room at the back of the bar five minutes later.

END

**Hope you all enjoyed my self indulgent little Cowboy fic. See you next time. **


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